Shrine of the Times
Part 7. Happiness: the End of My Story Told in the Middle
I am happy now.
…And I got good at stroking my Ashe. My Ashe shined in my teacher’s eyes. I was a good little stroker. Maybe the best at stroking up any teacher’s ass. — from Part 6 in this series.
That was then, 1984 or so. I am not that now, no, the opposite. Out of all of that now: Tibetian-branded Buddhism, being one in a large crowd of truth seekers, no, I’m not doing any of that anymore. No more liturgies, no more trying to intellectualize gaslights, just intellectualization on what matters to me deep inside. I am pondering subjects that strike me in my heart, and I know from experience that they are important and worthy, plus things I never thought about before. Those are the most fascinating, always.
But I am not going to write anyone a self-help guide on happiness because just how, at 70, I end up in a continuing bliss is an unraveling mystery to me in real-time, right here with you, dear reader. But I have some ideas on what happened. Some theories, some fragments of truth perhaps…
When did happiness happen?
I know that the change, the light, the switch that finally went on did so slowly, like a slow burn of a candle, until the wick was gone. Then Covid hit. After that, it is happiness ‘till death, and even after… feels that way, the happy is so strong in me.
Why did Happiness happen?
This is the more important question: why me? If you have read parts 1 through 6 of my story, things did not look good for the hero. And parts following this one on happiness turn to the far worse. But the misfit protagonist does make it in the end, somehow. I can attribute my success story possibly to one or all of these unordered points, plus one or two yet to be discovered:
Retirement, with income. Enough Pisa to live.
Family growth (babies among the relatives), more time with my SO, and time with real friends, not the online variation.
The total acceptance of death (thanks, 2016 Earthquakes, thanks COVID).
Dogs, cats, elephants, mules… all animals became as close to me as “family and real friends.” I’ve been a pack leader for many years, and currently, I live with a dog that weighs more than me and probably understands more about me (and many other things) than I do.
Music. I’ve worn through many pairs of ear pods, listening just about 24x7 in the past five years. I ingest whatever YouTube Music, Apple Music, and Spotify will feed me. The Algos have my number and feed me what I like. So nice of them!
I’ve cut down on my World and Political News injections, and social media is just a one-way street for me. I post, but I don’t read any of it. The titles of tweets and topics alone horrify me, encouraging me to get in and out as fast as possible. This is amazing, considering the unhappy me was plugged into that crap 24x7 instead of music. Also, we still have newspapers here, and I fondle them occasionally for fun.
I cook. I cook for myself and for anyone who needs to eat. I only eat and serve things where I can trace the root of any ingredient back to its healthy root, or I am not using it. No “unverified” foods are cooked or served for us here, in the home. Good food makes us happy.
I see pain and unhappiness everywhere and in everything. I am immersed in a sea of that. But this makes1 me help, I guess, and then I become happier, like an Energy bunnie recharging.
Other reasons that I refuse to think about or don’t know about.
I am sure there are more points, but have you noticed it’s far easier to write reasons we are miserable than happy? One reason I put the end of my story here, instead of at the very end, is that I know myself; I’d probably forget to write (or block out) this part on being happy, as writing about happiness is painful for me. Wtf.
I'll return with more of my story; the miserable part is next. And the horrid. I don’t envy you.
Footnotes
I don’t feel I have the right words for any of the Whys of my happiness. I have many words I could use, extracted from all the major faiths and sciences as well. It’s chemistry. It’s inner peace. It’s a lot of words and phrases that always sounded like platitudes to me, and I still suspect they are. So I won’t use them on you. But I do want to find the right words. Maybe by going through the whole story here, they will come.
Definitely like this happiness post. Have been rather busy still trying to save democracy here, so thanks for reminding me that I am very happy with how I am doing it. Writing is a plus for sure as well as monitoring what else I ingest. Woke up this morning singing "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" so I'm exploring why that one popped up. More music is a great prescription for these times.